


Divine Wind

by Aerle



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Explicit Sexual Content, Japan in the Middle Ages, Kamakura period (1185-1333), Loss of Eye, M/M, Middle Ages, Mongol invasion, Violence, War, history of japan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9134380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerle/pseuds/Aerle
Summary: "He had done his duty as samurai, namely, served his lord, even if he hadn’t survived the war. Zoro would have to find a new master or be doomed to be a ronin, a masterless samurai."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ventusio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ventusio/gifts).



> Commissioned by Ventusio. Thanks MyLadyDay for beta'ing.
> 
> This story is set at the second Mongol invasion of Japan in 1281. See the end of the story for more information about the historical setting. 
> 
> Please check the tags for warnings.

“What the hell is that?!”

The Japanese army, that had been heavily outnumber during this second Mongol attack, was now staring from the fortified shores to the typhoon that had started ravaging the Mongol ships. The flat bottomed ships of the Mongol allies, the Chinese, were already difficult to steer on open sea. In a typhoon, they didn’t stand a chance.

Zoro watched from his shelter as the storm destroyed the invaders’ ships. Some of the Mongols tried to get ashore, and those would be dealt with once the storm had died down. Once again, the Mongols wouldn’t invade Japan, proving that the government had made the right choice by killing the emissaries that had demanded their surrender.

“The gods look favourably on this land,” Rayleigh, a Shinto priest, said next to Zoro. “Sending another divine wind to deal with the invaders.”

Zoro snorted, but didn’t reply. He didn’t know why a priest was here and the times he had asked, he had only received the reply, “Praying for victory.” He didn’t believe that the gods had made this happen. As samurai, he had fought like a lion for Japan’s victory, despite the fact that they had been in the minority. During the previous invasion seven years ago, the Mongols had been defeated by a typhoon, or _kamikaze_ , divine wind, as well, rather than the Japanese. Zoro could see why some would attribute it to divine interference, even if it was just a coincidence. He just doubted Rayleigh was a priest in general. Even if the priests had been ordered to pray for victory before the Mongols arrived, as the invasion came expected, Zoro didn’t see the need for a priest to come along during the actual invasion.

However, it was not his concern. He had done his duty as samurai, namely, served his lord, even if he hadn’t survived the war. Zoro would have to find a new master or be doomed to be a _ronin_ , a masterless samurai.

The typhoon raged for two days, after which not much of the Mongol fleet was left. However, some of them had still made it ashore and the Japanese samurai had to hunt them down. Zoro had found several, but none had been willing to surrender so he had to kill them.

Unfortunately, his long, thin swords were not able to cut the thick leather armour of the Mongols. He made a mental note of that. For the next invasion, their swords had to be adequate. Before the typhoon, Zoro had had barely the chance to fight the Mongols one on one, because they had different, alien fighting techniques. However, those proved to be inferior when facing a well-trained samurai.

Suddenly, he spotted a lone surviving ship floating on the sea near the coast. It was a Mongol ship and it seemed like there were a few survivors. Calling over his fellow warriors, Zoro noted too late that the Mongols still had a catapult on board. They had used explosive bombs during their attack, something the Japanese had never seen before and weren’t prepared for. The survivors were loading one into the catapult.

“Retreat!” Zoro shouted, but it was too late for him to take cover. The bomb landed a few yards from him, exploding with a loud bang. Zoro was just far away enough not to be caught in the blast, but pieces of shrapnel whizzed past him, cutting through his armour like butter. One piece launched itself into his left eye, blinding him immediately. 

As soon as the dust had settled, it didn’t take long before the last Mongols were taken out by Japanese archers, but many hadn’t survived the blast or were badly injured.

Zoro rose to his feet and stumbled away. His eye hurt, along with his head. Carefully, he tried to pull the shrapnel out of the wound. It hurt like hell, and blood started to flow freely.

He tore a piece of his clothing and bound it around his eye to staunch the blood. Stumbling, he tried to find the camp again, but suddenly, he found himself in a forest. Why did they move the camp? Had they found all the Mongols and decided to break up camp?

What use was it, though? His master was dead and so were many of his fellow samurai. He had nowhere to go, as his master’s lands would no doubt be claimed by a neighbour. He would have to find a new master.

He walked around some more, trying to find his way back to camp. His surroundings became cloudy, and Zoro grabbed at his head. He shook his head to try to get rid of the haziness, but instead, a sharp pain went through his face like he was hit all over again. He cursed under his breath and steadied himself against a tree, or tried to at least, as he missed and ended up falling against it.

A wave of nausea washed over him, and he turned around to lean against the tree, sliding down until he was sitting on the ground. He closed his one eye. His forehead felt warm and clammy with sweat. Fuck, he couldn’t get a fever now! He tried to push himself up again, but his body refused to cooperate. Maybe he could sit here for a while, take a nap. He would probably feel better then and find the others. Yes, that sounded like a sensible idea.

When he woke up again, he found himself no longer sitting against the tree, but rather lying on the forest ground. There was something on his wounded eye, which felt like a bandage. When he turned his head, he saw the rags he had used himself lying on the ground. That meant that someone had to have changed them. But who…?

He pushed himself on his elbows to take in his surroundings, when his ears picked up a muffled yelp. A few yards away from him, he saw a boy standing. He was looking wide-eyed at Zoro and was obviously trying to hide behind a tree, failing miserably. He looked like he was about sixteen or seventeen, definitely too young to be a warrior. He didn’t look like one.  

Zoro tried to sit up, but suddenly the boy squeaked, “Stay down! Y-you should rest.”

Zoro raised his one functioning eyebrow. The boy didn’t look like a doctor, but he knew better than to judge a book by its cover. “Did you do this?” he asked, pointing at his wounded eye. He had noted his other wounds, those from the war and the blast, had been bandaged as well.

“Y-yes.” The boy seemed to be shy.

“You’ve done a good job. I barely feel it anymore. You must be a good doctor.”

“S-hut up, asshole! Those compliments don’t make me happy at all!” the boy exclaimed as he did what Zoro only could describe as a happy dance. The contradicting words and behaviour were curious to say the least, but there were more important things to talk about. “Who are you?” Zoro asked. “How did you get here?”

“My name is Tony, but everyone calls me Chopper,” Chopper said. “I was collecting herbs in the woods for Doctorine, my mentor. What’s your name? Where are you from?”

“Zoro. I came from the coast. I fought against the Mongols, who were wiped out by the typhoon, and was looking for the camp when I passed out,” Zoro explained.

Chopper’s eyebrows rose. “The coast is a few miles from here. Did you… get lost?”

Zoro’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “O-of course not!”

Chopper looked at him doubtfully, but didn’t comment on it. “Here,” he cautiously came closer, “drink something.” He handed Zoro a water skin.

Only now, Zoro realised how thirsty he was and took some long draughts. When he was done, he said, “I should go find the others.” He rose with difficulty, staggering when he got to his feet. He cursed under his breath.

“You really shouldn’t move so much! You’ve lost a lot of blood!” Chopper hastened himself to him to steady Zoro. “I can take you to Doctorine so she can take care of you.” He looked at Zoro almost pleading.

Zoro sighed. He was still unsteady on his legs and he was dizzy. Maybe he should let Chopper take care of him. It wasn’t like he was much use for the army now, and besides, the war was over. The encampment would be broken up today or tomorrow anyway.

“This way. No, _this_ way!” Chopper repeated when Zoro started to walk in the wrong direction.

The walk to where this Doctorine person lived was longer than Zoro would have liked, and he was starting to feel faint again, though he tried not to show it. He was pretty sure Chopper knew, however, as he tried to get Zoro to take a break as often as possible, even though he claimed it was for himself. No doubt he realised that Zoro wouldn’t do it for any other reason.

Finally, a house appeared in the distance. Chopper helped him inside and called for Doctorine. Zoro wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t the woman who appeared in front of him. Her face showed that she was definitely rather old, yet she dressed in the fashion common for young girls.

“Surprised?” she asked when she saw Zoro looking. “Do you want to know the secret to my youth?”

“Not really,” he replied.

She narrowed her eyes. “Lie down,” she then commanded and gestured to a bed in the corner. When Zoro didn’t respond quick enough, he received a kick in the abdomen, causing him to fly backwards and onto the bed. She had managed to avoid all his injuries, however.

“Doctorine!” Chopper exclaimed.

“Quiet! He’s fine. Did you get the herbs I asked for?”

Chopper nodded and took off the bag he had been carrying. “Doctorine, the typhoon defeated the Mongols, like that priest said!”

Zoro’s ears pricked up at that. “Priest?” he asked as he tried to sit up, only to be pushed back down none too gently by Doctorine.

Chopper shrugged. “A Shinto priest came by here. He said his name was Rayleigh.”

“When?”

“Early this morning.”

Zoro hummed. It seemed that Rayleigh had left as soon as the typhoon had died down. He still didn’t understand him, but he probably never would anyway.

Doctorine took a stool and put it next to the bed Zoro had been thrown upon, before sitting down on it. “Go get some water,” she ordered Chopper.

Chopper nodded and left the small house.

“He seems to like you,” Doctorine said.

Zoro shrugged and winced as she grabbed a giant pair of scissors to cut the bandage over his eye. Somehow, he didn’t trust her with large sharp objects, even if his eye was ruined anyway.

“Chopper doesn’t have many friends, so it would do him good.” Somehow, she managed to cut away the bandage without hurting Zoro. She looked at the wound and muttered something to herself.

“I’m not going to be able to save your eye,” she finally concluded. “You’ll get a scar, but at least you won’t die from infection. Let me guess, you’ve walked around with this gash all night, haven’t you? If Chopper hadn’t found you…” She shook her head and started to smear some kind of smelly ointment on the wound.

“Listen, Doctori–”

“It’s Kureha,” she interrupted him. “Only Chopper calls me that.”

“Zoro,” Zoro said.

She snorted. “Yeah, I’ve heard of you. Fought against the Mongols. I take it your master didn’t survive it?”

Zoro cast his eye down. He really didn’t look forward to finding a new master. He had known Koshiro all his life and he had been loyal to him because he deserved it. Additionally, he had promised his daughter Kuina that he would become the best swordsman in Japan after she died. There were many corrupt lords around. Zoro just hoped there would be a good one as well.

“I figured. That typhoon came just in time if you ask me. The samurai do a good enough job fighting amongst themselves. No need to do that against other nations.” She snorted.

Zoro kept silent and waited until she was done applying the bandages. “Thanks, grandma. Bye!” he said, sitting up and tried to leave.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kureha said sharply.

“I’ve hurt my eye, not my legs! I’m fine.”

“Alright, take this.” She held out a spoon to him.

“What’s this? Some kind of stupid countryside game?” he grumbled as he tried to grab the spoon, only to miss. “Keep it still!” he snapped as he tried again.

“I am,” Kureha said calmly. She sighed when Zoro finally managed to grab the spoon with a triumphant face – ignoring the fact that it had taken him four tries. “Do you know why humans have two eyes? It’s to perceive depth. If I let you go now, you won’t get far without running into something. You first need to get used to your new condition. Besides, you’ve lost a lot of blood. It’s a miracle you’re not unconscious right now.” She rose from the stool. “I am going to help Chopper now. You better be resting when I get back. Here.” She handed him a bowl of soup which she only let go when she was certain that he had grabbed it. “Eat it and then sleep.” Her tone indicated that she didn’t wanted any contradiction and that she was willing to tie him up if he so much as hinted at disobeying her.

Kureha made him stay at her house for several days. In that time, he tried to avoid her as much as possible in the small space, since she wasn’t above using force to get him to do what she wanted. Granted, she mostly wanted to see him get better, but Zoro never was one to do nothing. Well, not when he was awake, in any case. He did enjoy sleeping a lot, but when he was awake, he wanted to train, and Kureha didn’t allow him to.

Fortunately for Zoro, Chopper lived at the same house and he was much more gentle than she was. Zoro learned that Kureha had practically adopted Chopper, though she preferred to call herself his mentor. The one who had taught Chopper about medicine first, a doctor Hiluluk, had died and entrusted Chopper to Kureha. Zoro spent his waking hours talking to Chopper. Chopper was a very sweet boy, though he turned out to have quite a mouth on him when he was complimented. He could hide very poorly how happy compliments made him, however.

As the weeks passed and Zoro stared to learn to live with his handicap, a feeling of restlessness appeared. He spent his time talking to Chopper, or training, once Kureha had cleared him. Yet, nothing could soothe the feeling of unease. Chopper took notice of it and asked what was going on.

“It’s the way of the warrior,” Kureha said. “He needs to serve a purpose, and he’ll never be happy as a farmer. Boy,” she said to Zoro, even if he was at least a foot taller than she was, “go to the house of the lord of these lands. An old friend of mine works there. He’ll at least feed you and perhaps he’ll put in a good word for you.”

Zoro wasn’t convinced. “I don’t want to serve a random master.”

“My friend wouldn’t serve him if he wasn’t a good master.” Kureha continued to crush some herbs in a mortar.

Zoro raised his eyebrow. “Who’s this friend of you anyway? And why would he help me?”

“His name is Zeff.”

“Wait,” Chopper piped up, “isn’t he the one–” He shrieked and ducked when Kureha threw the mortar to his head. “Never mind,” he squeaked.

Kureha turned back to Zoro. “Let’s say he has a knack of sizing people up. If he thinks you’re worthy, he’ll help you.”

Zoro sighed. “Alright, we can go see who this man is. What’s his name anyway?”

Kureha looked up, her eyes an odd shine to them. “Dracule Mihawk.”

Zoro’s eyes narrowed. He knew that name like no other. Mihawk had fought against the Mongols as well, and he was known as the best swordsman in Japan. In order to get that title, Zoro would have to defeat him one day. Could he really serve him as his master before that?

* * *

Mihawk’s house was a few days’ travel from Kureha’s house. The morning they left, Zoro had asked Chopper to come with them. At first, he had refused, but some encouraging words from Kureha had convinced him.

“You’ve seen what happens to him when left alone,” she said. “He will need a doctor. And someone who doesn’t get lost, for that matter.”

So Chopper decided to join him. He seemed both excited and scared, but the longer they were underway, the cheerier he became, babbling about herbs and mushrooms.

As they took a break, Zoro was woken from his nap rudely by a cry of “Aniki!” He knew those voices anywhere. Opening his eye, he reassured Chopper that they were in no danger.

Two of his fellow samurai and best friends Johnny and Yosaku, came running up to them, hugging Zoro tightly.

“Alright, alright, enough already!” Zoro said and pushed them off him. He was still happy to see them, though, and his smirk betrayed that. He hadn’t seen them since before the typhoon, so he was relieved to see they had survived.

“We knew you were probably lost,” Johnny said proudly. “Since your body wasn’t found, you had to still be alive. You could never lose!”

“Where have you been?” Yosaku asked.

Zoro told the story and introduced Chopper to them. “I’m on my way to Dracule Mihawk,” he concluded.

Johnny and Yosaku exchanged a look. “As your new master?”

Zoro shrugged.

“We’ll come with you,” Johnny hastily said. “We’re masterless too now, so he might take us.”

“You’re not going to challenge him, are you?” Yosaku asked worriedly.

“I don’t know,” Zoro replied.

They arrived at the castle in the early evening. A man was standing outside, staring over the fields. Most of the farmers were inside already, enjoying their evening meals, but this man also stood out because of his enormous moustache and his peg leg. Kureha had described Zeff, so it was easy to recognise him. Zeff was a foreigner, but not one like Zoro had ever seen. His hair wasn’t dark, but had the colour of the sun.

Suddenly, Zeff turned around and looked right at them. His fierce look had Johnny and Yosaku take a step back, and Chopper tried to hide behind Zoro, failing miserably, but Zoro remained standing where he stood.

Zeff hummed and plucked his moustache. “It's not often that we get visitors. What’s your business here?” He had a strong accent.

Yosaku and Johnny shrunk back, and Zoro couldn’t exactly blame them. There was something about this man that would have the largest of men think twice about attacking him. Still, Zoro stood his ground.

“Kureha send us. She said you’d feed us and put in a good word with your master. We recently lost ours and are looking for a new one.” While he was talking, he never looked away. “This is her apprentice.” He pointed to Chopper, who held on to his clothes.

Zeff hummed again and stared at Zoro, no doubt trying to read his soul, but Zoro didn’t back down and faced the stare head on.

“Yo, old fart!” a male voice suddenly shouted. The voice had a similar accent to Zeff’s, only much less present. “What the hell are you doing here, daydreaming? We’re already short staffed in the kitchen!” A young man appeared, around Zoro’s age. Like Zeff, his skin was much paler than the people Zoro knew, and his hair was golden, a lock of it covering one of his eyes. He had striking features, even if his curled eyebrow was a bit odd.

The man stopped mid-rant to look at the newcomers, but when he caught Zoro’s stare, he barked, “What?”

“I was just looking at your stupid eyebrow,” Zoro replied calmly. He wasn’t sure why, but instinctively, he knew his words would rile up the man of whom he didn’t even know the name. Somehow, that seemed like a good thing. Zoro always trusted his instincts.

He was right. The man’s one visible eye widened comically, before his face turned red. “What did you say, you mossy forest troll?!”

Zoro’s eye twitched angrily. “What the hell did you call me?!”

“Aniki!” Both Johnny and Yosaku had to throw in their full weight to hold him back while the young man smirked triumphantly.

“Go back to the kitchen, eggplant,” Zeff said sternly. “If you can’t handle it by yourself, you’re as useless as I thought.”

The triumphant expression fell from the man’s face and he turned pale. “D-don’t call me that, old fart!” he yelled at Zeff before he stormed back in the direction he came from.

Zoro couldn’t hide his smirk.

“You’d better wipe that grin off your face, grass-head,” Zeff said with a snort. “I still haven’t decided if I’ll put in a word for you with the master. I will, however, feed you. Come with me.”

Chopper, Johnny, and Yosaku did as they were told, while Zoro strolled a little slower after them. He couldn’t stop thinking about the man he had just met. There was something about him Zoro couldn’t put his finger on. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had finally found someone to challenge him.

Suddenly, he looked forward to staying here.

Zeff brought them inside the house via the kitchen and put them in a small room. The only furniture was a table. Zoro, Chopper, Johnny, and Yosaku all sat down while Zeff left the room without a word.

“That didn’t go as I expected,” Johnny said after a moment of silence. “You almost ruined our chances, Aniki, by trying to start a brawl with a cook.”

Zoro huffed. In combat, he had learned to size up his opponent quickly for weak spots, yet he had no idea what to expect from the cook. However, he still doubted the man would go down without a fight. He may have looked cocky, but Zoro was fairly sure he could deliver as well.

The door opened again and the golden haired young man entered with a tray of food. He placed the bowls in front of them without saying a word. Divine smells wafted their way and as if on cue, Zoro’s stomach growled.

“Thanks, man. Care to join us?” Johnny asked. “I’m Johnny, by the way, and those are Yosaku and Zoro.”

The man’s look rested on Zoro for a moment, before huffing. “No thanks.”

Johnny and Yosaku shrugged and took a bite. Simultaneously, they moaned, and for a second, Zoro feared the food might be poisoned. How stupid had he been? He had just blindly trusted Zeff because Kureha knew him, but he should have never let his guard down!

Immediately, however, he realised that he had been wrong. Or at least, poisoning wasn’t the cause of the moaning. Judging by the looks on Johnny’s and Yosaku’s faces, the food was just that good. Zoro looked at the man, who stood in front of the door with a smug look on his face, and then back at the food. His stomach growled again.

“Come on, moss-head. Eat. We don’t waste food in this house.” The man looked at him challengingly.

Zoro hesitated, but when Johnny and Yosaku encouraged him as well, he finally took a bite. Immediately, he decided that he didn’t care anymore if the food was poisoned, because he could die a happy man if this was his last meal. Of course, he gave no sign of that and just shrugged when he saw Johnny’s, Yosaku’s, and the man’s expectant faces. “It’s okay.”

The man snorted. “Of course you’d think so, uncultured swine.”

“Don’t listen to him, it’s the best food I ever had,” Yosaku reassured the man. “What do we call you, by the way?”

Zoro remembered part of the conversation between the man and Zeff outside. “It’s Eggplant, isn’t it?” He had no idea what an eggplant was, or if it even was something, but it had riled the man up, so it was worth it.

It worked. The man’s cheeks flushed in anger. “Don’t you dare call me that, moss-for-a-brain!”

“What did you call me?!” Zoro jumped up, careful not to spill anything. He liked to think he was usually somewhat easy going, or could at least control his anger. This man, however, somehow managed to rub him the wrong way and push all his buttons.

Johnny and Yosaku exchanged a look, while Chopper seemed to be trying to become invisible. “Then, what _is_ your name?” Yosaku asked in an attempt to distract the man, no doubt.

The anger drained visibly from the man’s body. “It’s Sanji,” he muttered.

“So, where are you from, Sanji?” Johnny asked as he continued eating. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

Zoro decided that the moment to fight had passed and he sat down again.

“That’s ‘cause I’m not,” Sanji snapped, before he sighed. “I’m from far away.”

“I can see that. Tell me, do all people look like you there? I’ve never seen hair in that colour before,” Yosaku said.

Sanji snorted. “Are you telling me that _that_ is normal?” He pointed to Zoro’s head. “It looks like… What do you call it here? Marimo?”

“Oi!” Zoro jumped up once again, this time ready to smack that smug smirk off Sanji’s face.

Before he could, however, a female voice called. “Sanji?”

All aggression in Sanji’s body seemed to disappear into thin air, as he whipped around, wiggling his body in a way that reminded Zoro of the noodles he had been eating. “Perona-chwan~!” He almost swooned.

A young woman with pink hair came into the room. “I didn’t know we had guests,” she said. “Let’s see… Uncute,” she pointed at Johnny, “uncute,” this time she looked at Yosaku, “and…” She tilted her head as she seemed to make up her mind about Zoro.

“Please don’t mind those idiots, my princess~! They’ll be gone soon, and I’m all yours again!”

Perona ignored Sanji’s declarations of love and turned to Zoro. “Are you samurai?”

“What’s it to you?” Zoro retorted.

Sanji looked like Zoro had just slapped him in the face, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. “How _dare_ you talk to Perona-chwan like that, moss-head?! You’re not worthy of being in the room as her!” he spat. “That would go for all beautiful angels, but Perona-chwan~ is also the lord of the manor’s daughter!”

Zoro was about to snap something back, but Johnny and Yosaku had dived on top of him, covering his mouth with their hands. “Don’t make her angry, Aniki,” Johnny whispered. “She can make it very difficult for us if we want the lord to accept us as his warriors.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, but remained silent even when they removed their hands.

Perona still looked at him through thick lashes. “You’re cute,” she finally said with an air of finality in her voice.

Once again, Sanji looked like he had been slapped in the face. “But, Perona-chwan,” he said with a whiny voice, “how can you say that? Look at that brute! He looks ridiculous and… I mean, look at his face! And his hair! How can you think that’s cute?”

Zoro had trouble hiding his smirk. He had the feeling Perona had never called the obviously love-struck Sanji cute, and any way to annoy him was a good one.

Perona still ignored Sanji and turned to Zoro. “Why are you here?”

“We’re looking for a new master,” he replied.

She tilted her head a little. “My father is very particular about who he hires. But I can put in a good word for you. If you do something for me.”

“He’ll do it!” Johnny and Yosaku called simultaneously before Zoro had a chance to reply.

She smirked. “Good. Meet me in the garden tomorrow at noon.” With a skip in her step, she turned around and left the room, followed by a grovelling Sanji who kept asking her to reconsider her verdict about Zoro.

“Thanks a lot,” Zoro snapped at his friends. “Who knows what she’ll want me to do.”

Johnny shrugged. “It’ll be worth it if it means we can stay.”

“We should be able to stay because of our skills, not because some spoiled brat asks her daddy,” Zoro growled.

“How dare you!” Sanji’s voice sounded. Apparently, Perona had managed to shake him off. “You should thank her on your bare knees if she allows you to kiss the ground upon which she walks!”

“You mean,” Zoro rose from his spot, “like she _doesn’t_ allow you to?”

Sanji’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out, reminding Zoro of a carp. It was the first time that he had managed to shut Sanji up all on his own. “S-she just doesn’t realise yet that I’m much cuter than you are!” Sanji finally managed, but it didn’t sound convincing.

Zoro snorted. It irked him that Sanji was so love-struck with Perona, especially because she didn’t even seem to notice him. He didn’t know why he cared, though. He probably just didn’t like to see a grown man grovel like that.

Sanji whipped around and left the room brusquely.

“What’s with you and him?” Johnny asked, his eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, you’ve been at each other’s throats from the moment you met,” Yosaku added. “What’s up with that?”

Zoro shrugged. He couldn’t explain the need to rile Sanji up, but it was obvious Sanji felt the same. “I don’t know, he just bugs me.”

Johnny and Yosaku exchanged a look.

“What?” Zoro snapped. “What’s with that?” He gestured between them.

Johnny held up his hands defensively. “Nothing, nothing.”

Zoro huffed, but let it rest. A maid entered the room to take them to their room. Despite the fact that he had travelled all day, Zoro had trouble falling asleep. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, thinking about all the things that had happened and things that were to come. He had no idea what Perona’s plans were with him and, frankly, he preferred not to find out. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be an option, at least if he wanted to stay here. Zeff may be held in high enough regard that he had some input with Dracule Mihawk, but he would be more inclined to listen to his daughter. Zoro wondered briefly if there was a lady to whom he could appeal.

Why did he want to stay, anyway? There would be enough lords who would count themselves lucky to have a warrior like Zoro. Still, Zoro knew he had to stay here. Even if he wanted to defeat Mihawk one day, if he was willing to train Zoro, he would probably improve. And secondly… Sanji’s face appeared before his mind’s eye, and Zoro sighed. Yeah, he could definitely not leave until he had taught that cook a lesson.

Someone violently shook his shoulder, and only Zoro’s instincts telling him the person waking him wasn’t a threat prevented him from attacking.

“Aniki! Wake up, it’s almost noon!”

Groggily, Zoro opened his eyes, only to see Johnny and Yosaku hovering over him. “What?” he grouched.

“You were supposed to meet the mistress in the garden at noon! Come on, Aniki!” Yosaku tried to pull Zoro onto his feet.

Slowly, the events from the previous night came back to him. Right, he had to meet the lord’s daughter in order to make her recommend him to her father. Sighing, he rose, so that Yosaku tumbled backwards. “Alright, alright, I’ll meet that chick.”

“Please don’t refer to her like that within earshot,” Johnny all but begged. “Or do anything else that will make her want to kick you out.”

“Why are you so certain that her testimony would even sway her father?” Zoro asked. “Hell, even if _I_ get to stay, what makes you think _you_ will too?”

Yosaku and Johnny exchanged a look and then both dove for Zoro’s feet, grabbing his ankles. “Please, Aniki, put in a good word for us too!”

“I will, geez. Stop grovelling!” Zoro pulled himself free and when that didn’t work, he just pulled them both along. When he was about to go through the door made of rice paper, they got the hint and let go of him.

He didn’t think they came after him, yet in the garden, he got the feeling that someone was watching him. When he turned around, though, he could only see bushes. Shrugging, he decided it must be his imagination. No assassin would be stupid enough to try to kill him in Mihawk’s gardens. He saw Chopper examining some plants, probably to see if they could be used for medicine.

He found Perona near a pond, sitting on a bench, where she was watching carps swim. “Well, here I am,” he grouched. “What do you want?”

Perona twirled around the umbrella she was holding. “You should be nicer to me, you know. I can have you send away if I please.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

She sighed, probably realising it was no use trying to make him be nicer to her. She patted on a bundle of clothes that was lying next to her. “I want you to wear this today.”

“What is it?” Zoro folded out the clothes and paled. “W-what the hell?! Is this a _bear_ costume?!”

She dangled her legs to and fro. “It is. Put it on.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Behind him, Zoro heard something that sounded awfully like a snort, but when he turned around, there was no one there.

“Put. It. On,” Perona demanded again. This time, her tone indicated that she didn’t want to be contradicted.

Grumbling, Zoro looked around once more, but they were in an abandoned part of the gardens, surrounded by trees and bushes. No one would see him here. Slowly, he started to put on the bear costume, wondering if it was really worth it.

When he was done, he turned to Perona. “There, happy?”

She let out a squeal. “You look so cute now! I’m going to get our artist. Wait here!” She darted off.

Zoro muttered some obscenities under his breath, wishing she would allow him to take it off soon. However, this time he definitely heard snickering. Whipping around, he reached into the bushes and pulled out someone. He paled once again when he recognised Sanji, who was clutching his stomach in laughter. Of all people to catch him looking like this, with the exception of Mihawk maybe, this was the worst. Zoro had never felt this humiliated in his life.

Meanwhile, Sanji tried to catch his breath, only to start another laughing fit when he looked up at Zoro again. This repeated a few times, and Zoro was starting to get annoyed.

Finally, Sanji seemed to be done wheezing and he wiped the tears from his eyes, a few snickers still escaping him. “You look ridiculous,” he managed to bring out. “Even more so than usual!”

Zoro’s eyebrow twitched, a tell-tale sign for those close to him that he was at the end of his patience, but Sanji either didn’t get that or didn’t care. Zoro suspected the latter.

“I mean, I had to see what she would ask a brute like you to do, but I’d have thought it would be something more physically challenging,” Sanji continued. “I’m _so_ happy she will commit it to paper. I mean, I will never forget the look on your face, but it would be nice to look at once in a while.”

Something in Zoro snapped. He wasn’t going to let himself be ridiculed, and certainly not by a cook! He was a warrior, dammit! Tearing off the costume, he aimed his fist at Sanji’s face, but was surprised when he was stopped. It wasn’t Sanji’s hand that did it, rather, Zoro’s fist was connected with a very firm calf. Sanji had lifted up his leg almost vertically into the air.

Flabbergasted at the display of limberness and skill, Zoro stumbled a few paces back, his mouth open. He had never seen anyone fighting like that, and he had never expected a cook of all people to demonstrate it for him. However, it did explain his instincts warning him to watch out for Sanji.

Sanji put his leg down, standing in a relaxed pose with his hands in his pockets, like he was having a conversation. A smirk grew on his face. “You’re wide open!” Before Zoro could react, a foot connected with his stomach, and he was launched backwards. For a moment, he lay on the grass, staring wide-eyed at the sky as his brain was trying to catch up with the situation, until Sanji’s face came into view.

“What’s this?” he asked tauntingly. “Is the great warrior defeated already? You should have kept on the costume, since you’re just a big softy.”

Slowly, a smirk grew on Zoro’s face. He was eager to see what else Sanji had in store for him. Grinning, he rose to his feet and immediately attacked. Sanji moved out of the way, still with his hands in his pockets. Zoro started to realise soon that he didn’t use his hands at all. Zoro wondered why.

However, it also became painfully clear that Zoro wasn’t a match for Sanji without weapons. He couldn’t use his actual swords, for one, because they were still in the house. He ducked out of the way for Sanji’s well aimed kick, rolling over the ground as he picked up the nearest branches he could find. They weren’t the best substitute, but they would do.

Sanji snorted when he saw him, but a hint of confusion could be seen on his face when Zoro placed one of the branches between his teeth. “What the hell kind of technique is that?!”

“Why don’t you come at me and find out?” Zoro said, smirking around the branch.

Sanji’s eye narrowed, and without a word, he ran towards Zoro. Zoro crossed his make shift swords to absorb the impact of his kick. By some miracle they didn’t break right away and he managed to push Sanji back for the first time in their fight. Sanji made a backflip, showing off his limberness, and landed back on his feet, but there was an excited glistening in his eyes. Instinctively, Zoro knew it was the same feeling he felt.

“It seems that you’ve finally warmed up,” Sanji said casually.

Zoro smirked. “You bet I have.”

They went at it again, now with equal strength. Briefly, Zoro wondered why Sanji had decided to become a cook rather than a warrior, but he was too excited about fighting someone of the same strength that he didn’t care. Sanji was everything he sought in an opponent, giving as good as he got and not backing down.

“What are you doing?” a voice suddenly shrieked, and Sanji stopped mid-kick.

Perona had returned, along with what Zoro assumed was the artist she was going to fetch, who was currently cowering behind her back. He had thick curly hair and an impossibly long nose. Perona had put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently on the ground. “Well?” she asked.

“I was just teaching this brute a lesson, my princess~” Sanji’s body had turned into noodles again, and Zoro rolled his eyes. He was just starting to have fun. Why did Sanji had to ruin that by acting like an idiot? They were equally matched, and every time Sanji touched him in some way, excited shivers went up his spine. It was different than when he fought others. When he was training, he was usually the best warrior, so he had to hold back not to hurt or injure anyone, and when he was fighting actual enemies, he didn’t take the time to see how skilled they were, he just beat them as soon as he could.

With Sanji, though, it was different. Zoro could go all out without fearing to hurt him, that much he had assessed from their fight. He’d love to continue it, but now that Perona was here, that probably wasn’t going to happen.

“Who’s teaching who a lesson?” he remarked, and to his – albeit pleasant – surprise, Sanji whipped around.

“Please, I was completely beating you.”

“You wish.”

They glared at each other, Sanji seemingly forgotten about Perona for now. Zoro only had to give him one last push. He smirked. “Shit cook.”

Sanji’s lips pulled into a thin line when he attacked Zoro once more, and Zoro had trouble suppressing his grin. Apparently, it was more important to try to make Zoro eat his words than fawn over Perona. Good to know.

However, before they could go at it again, another presence appeared. Sanji froze, and Zoro lowered his sticks. The presence was dangerous, but not threatening, though Zoro felt that could change any moment.

Dracule Mihawk strode towards them, clad in casual clothing, but still there dangled two swords from his belt, a long and a short one, as common for samurai. He looked at all of them in turn, and Zoro could practically hear the artist gulp. Perona, however, was pouting, and Sanji made a bow upon seeing his master.

Mihawk’s look rested on Zoro. “So you’re the third ronin,” he said.

Zoro wasn’t sure if he should meet the hawk-like eyes head on or bow to show his respect. He decided to do both, never taking his eyes off Mihawk.

“Roronoa Zoro,” Mihawk continued. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Especially from the Mongol invasion.”

“You have?” Zoro asked, crossing his arms before his chest.

“Yes. A Shinto priest passed through my lands. He told me everything.”

Zoro narrowed his eyes. That priest could only be Rayleigh, but why he had told so much to Mihawk, he didn’t know. It appeared Rayleigh had his own agenda, whatever that may be. “Then you must also know why I’m here,” he replied.

“Of course. Your friends have already pleaded your case. So you want to become the best swordsman, hm? Then show me what you’ve got,” Mihawk said, his eyes narrowing.

“I don’t have my swords.”

Mihawk pulled the longest sword he carried from the sheath and passed it to him. He drew the short one for himself.

Zoro stared at the sword in his hand, caught off guard. “Are you serious?” he asked. He was by no means as good a swordsman as Mihawk, at least not yet, but this seemed to be an unfair advantage.

Mihawk didn’t reply. Instead, he took his position.

Zoro shrugged and was about to do the same, when Sanji suddenly interjected. “Are you crazy? You know this is suicide, right?” he snapped. “There’s no way you can defeat the master, so why even bother? He won’t hold back.”

“I’m counting on that,” Zoro said grimly and pushed past Sanji.

“You’re not at full strength!”

Zoro turned around. Sanji’s blue eyes sparkled with something, but he couldn’t identify what. It looked like… anger. “This is my fight.”

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought!” Sanji spat, but did step out of the way.

At first, neither of them attacked. They just circled each other, sizing the other up. As expected, Zoro couldn’t find any weak spots.

Finally, Zoro was the first to attack. Mihawk, however, dashed out of the way just in time, cutting Zoro’s side. He cursed, pressing his free hand against the wound.

Mihawk twirled his sword around, waiting for Zoro to make the next move. Gritting his teeth, Zoro attacked once more. This time, the blades met halfway and sparks spattered around. Zoro pushed away and jumped backwards. He tried to find a weak spot again, but Mihawk didn’t seem to have any.

They danced around each other, but Mihawk had yet to attack. Sanji watched them with an unreadable expression on his face. Perona did not seem pleased with this development. The artist had just sat down and had started drawing them. Zoro briefly wondered how he could capture anything, since they didn’t stand still for even a moment, but the hand of the artist was flying across the paper at the same speed.

Zoro had lost all track of time. The only thing he could focus on were Mihawk’s strange eyes. Their swords didn’t clash as often as Zoro would have liked, as most of the time Mihawk had already moved out of the way. The frustrating part was that he still hadn’t attacked yet. Zoro grit his teeth again, determined to make Mihawk have a run for his money.

Finally, it seemed to work. Zoro saw an opening and attacked, but while he moved past Mihawk, Mihawk struck at him. Their swords clashed, but suddenly, Zoro’s blade was starting to show cracks, before splintering. 

Zoro looked at the useless handle in his hand. For a moment, nobody moved. It was almost like the world was holding its breath.

Then Zoro grinned and turned around, his arms spread. “Finish it.”

“Are you stupid?!” Sanji’s voice sounded. “Master, you can’t–”

“A swordsman doesn’t turn his back on death. It wouldn’t be honourable if you didn’t look me in the face,” Zoro said.

Mihawk nodded. “As you wish.” He jumped forward and sliced Zoro’s chest open.

Pain shot through him, even worse than when he lost his eye. He thought he heard someone scream his name, probably Perona. The last thing he saw was the horror-stricken look on Sanji’s face.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, Sanji’s face was also the first thing he saw. He was sitting next to Zoro and jumped up as if he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He coughed embarrassedly.

Zoro blinked a few times, trying to remember what happened. He had fought with Mihawk and lost, badly. The pain in his chest was proof of that. He was no longer outside, but was lying in a light room. It looked like the room he had slept in the night before. He tried to sit up, but both the throbbing pain and tight bandages prevented him from doing so. Sanji pushed him back down with his foot, albeit gently.

“Don’t even think about it, Marimo.”

“Where am I?” he asked hoarsely.

Sanji clucked his tongue disapprovingly, but much to Zoro’s surprise, he sat down and almost cradled Zoro’s head into his lap to help him drink. After that, Sanji gave him a bowl of soup, but left his head where it was so Zoro could carefully drink from it himself. When Zoro looked up, he could see underneath the wisp of hair that usually covered Sanji’s right eye. Interestingly, it seemed that both eyebrows curled the same way, instead of being each other mirror image.

“Thanks,” Zoro muttered after he had taken a few sips.

“Whatever.” Sanji snorted. “Even idiots have to eat.”

Obviously, he wasn’t pleased with Zoro’s actions, but Zoro decided not to take the bait. Instead, he asked, “Where are the others?”

“Chopper is asleep. The poor guy was up all night to take care of you. The other two have their own chores,” Sanji replied. Zoro could have sworn he caressed his hair, but the feeling was gone as swiftly as it had started.

Zoro looked down at his chest. He felt a surge of guilt when he realised how much he had made Chopper worry and fuss over him. “What about you?” he asked when he had finished his soup.

“I was sent here to bring you food, and since you’ve eaten, I’ve succeeded.” Sanji lifted up Zoro’s head again and placed it back on the pillow. Zoro immediately missed the warmth. Still, he said nothing when Sanji left.

After Sanji left, Yosaku and Johnny came to visit him. They still didn’t seem to be able to believe that Zoro lost, though they told him that Mihawk had decided they could stay. They assured Zoro that he could as well, though neither of them could remember Mihawk telling as much. Zoro doubted they were right, but he kept his mouth shut.

Next, the artist Zoro had seen with Perona came to visit him. He told Zoro his name was Usopp and showed proudly his drawings from the fight. “It’s too bad your sword broke, because I would like to have drawn more,” he said.

Zoro remembered what happened, and it also reminded him of the fights he had with the Mongols. His swords hadn’t been strong enough then either, though this time, he had fought with Mihawk’s sword. He had the feeling that the short sword Mihawk himself had used had been made of a different material. “Is there a blacksmith nearby?” he asked Usopp.

Usopp frowned. “Sure. Why do you ask?”

“I think Mihawk’s sword was made of a different material than the one I used. Stronger. I want to ask the man who made them.”

Usopp pursed his lips. “Franky did say he was working on something new. Maybe he has already implemented it. You should go see him when you’re better.”

Usopp was swiftly kicked out by Chopper, who said Zoro needed rest. Once they were alone, Chopper started to fuss over him and scold him from getting hurt.

Zoro spent his days taking naps. He would have preferred to train, but Chopper had pretty much tied him to the bed after he tried that the first time. The wound on his chest was a nasty one. It went from his shoulder diagonally over his chest to his hip. Mihawk would surely have killed him if he had had that intention, but for some reason, he hadn’t. Zoro still wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he had regarded it as training after all.

Sanji came by every day, though he still claimed it was only because Zeff sent him and he didn’t like to be nagged. Yet he still helped Zoro eat and, once Zoro could sit upright again, he waited until Zoro was finished, with the excuse that otherwise, he would just have to walk back and forth to pick up the dishes. Zoro had the feeling that Sanji enjoyed spending time with him way more than he let on. They still argued, but most of the time was spend in an amicable silence.

When he asked Sanji why he didn’t use his hands in combat, Sanji snorted. “I’m a cook, moss-head. I need my hands, so I can’t risk them in battle.”

That seemed to make sense, and Zoro decided he was very pleased Sanji had his hands. Not just because he cooked divine food – and Zoro wasn’t one to use that word lightly – but also because of the touches that Zoro was started to suspect were not so accidental.

As soon as Chopper cleared him, Zoro picked up his training again. Yosaku and Johnny helped him. At first they went easy on him, but when they noticed he could still kick their asses, they stepped up their game.

In the middle of the training, a servant came up to them to tell Zoro that Mihawk expected him. Suspiciously, Zoro put his swords away and followed her back to the house.

Mihawk was sitting cross-legged in the main room of the house. He gestured Zoro to follow his example once Zoro had made a stiff bow. “I heard you had recovered,” he said, his strange, almost yellow eyes staring straight at Zoro.

“You knew I would,” Zoro replied. “If you’d wanted to kill me, I’d be dead.”

Mihawk nodded almost invisibly.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Zoro asked sharply. “You should have.”

“Should I?” Mihawk rose and poured some sake. He offered one of the cups to Zoro, who took it gratefully. He hadn’t had much booze lately, because Chopper didn’t allow it during his recovery, but Johnny and Yosaku had smuggled some in, and Sanji too at one point, albeit with comments about him being a drunk.

“I see a lot of potential in you. Arrogance too, seeing you thought you’d might be able to beat me already. I trust you’ve learned your lesson,” Mihawk continued. “I have offered to your friends a place in my household. I can’t offer you the same, since I cannot have one of my men wanting to defeat me one day. You can stay for a while, however, as my guest, but you’ll have to leave again by the next full moon.”

Zoro swallowed the last of the sake. He had expected as much.

The corner of Mihawk’s curved up. “I trust you will be back before too long, to once more challenge me.”

Zoro took that as a dismissal and rose, but he hesitated at the door. “The short sword you used to fight me, it was different than the long one I fought with.”

It wasn’t a question, but Mihawk answered anyway. “That is correct. You should talk to my blacksmith.”

Zoro nodded curtly and bowed before leaving the room. Scratching the back of his head, he wondered how he should break the news to Johnny and Yosaku that he wasn’t allowed to stay.

He found the smithy with relative ease. A woman was reading in front of the house. She looked up, a mysterious smile on her face, and suddenly, Zoro felt like she knew his deepest secrets. A shiver went down his spine.

“You’re here for my husband,” she spoke. “He is inside.”

Zoro nodded in thanks and passed her as quickly as he could. Inside the forge, it was hot. An enormous man was using bellows to get the fire started again. Zoro cleared his throat, and the man whipped around, startled. He was covered in soot.

“Whoah, bro. Never heard of knocking?” he asked, though he sounded good-humouredly.

“Your wife said I could come in,” Zoro replied.

The man snorted. “Of course. Robin’s like a watchdog. Well, if she let you through, you’re definitely okay. I’m Franky.”

“Zoro,” Zoro introduced himself.

“What can I do for you, bro?”

“I wanted to talk about the sword you made for Master Mihawk,” Zoro said.

A grin appeared on Franky’s face. “Ah, of course. It’s super, isn’t it?” He struck an odd pose when he said ‘super’.

“It is definitely better than the ones I use,” Zoro agreed.

“The master noted that the swords we use weren’t strong enough to cut through the sturdy leather armours of the Mongols,” Franky explained. “So he asked me to make ones that could. The short sword is a prototype. It’s good, right?”

“It did this,” Zoro said and pulled aside his clothes so that Franky could see the scar on his chest.

Franky whistled. “That’s a nasty cut. But wait, you fought the master?”

“I lost, as you can see. I won’t do that again,” Zoro grouched. “But I fought against the Mongols as well, and concluded the same things; we need better swords. Can you make them for me?”

Franky seemed hesitant. “I don’t know, bro. If you’re gonna use them to try to kill the master…”

The door opened again, and Robin came inside. She still wore the same smile. “He was almost cleaved in half a few days ago. I don’t think he’ll try to do that anytime soon again. It would be unfortunate if he was gutted after just barely surviving.” Her smile never wavered, even when she spoke about such gory stuff. Franky and Zoro exchanged a look.

Robin turned to Zoro. “I take it you are going to travel the world for a while to train, aren’t you? You could use some good swords.” She glanced meaningfully at Franky, who just sighed and gave up. It seemed that he was used to Robin getting her way.

Zoro mused about Robin’s words, however. He knew he needed to become better, but he hadn’t considered leaving Japan, or go very far, for that matter. But maybe she was on to something. Sanji was living proof that the world was much larger than he had thought and the Mongols had taught him that there were other fighting styles than just the Japanese way. He could learn a lot by travelling the world.

Robin turned around again to leave the forge, but when she passed Zoro, she touched his shoulder for a moment and whispered, “Perhaps there is someone who would like to accompany you.” With the same mysterious smile as she had entered, she left again.

Zoro was confused for a moment. Did she imply she would like to join him? But why?

However, he was pulled from his thoughts when Franky asked, “How many swords would you want then, bro? And when do you need them ready?”

“Three. I need to leave by the next full moon, so before that time.”

Franky’s eyebrows rose. “That’s soon, but I’ll manage. Though, why three? A spare one?”

Zoro shrugged with a grin. He stayed a while at the smithy to discuss the dimensions of the new swords, or katana, as Franky called them. They consisted of a soft and hard layers of steel, which gave them an improved cutting power and endurance, or so Franky told him. Zoro was excited about the prospect of new weapons, but when he started talking about payment, Franky waved it away.

“We’ll figure something out.” He slapped Zoro on the shoulder.

To be honest, Zoro was relieved. He hardly had any possessions left, but he needed the new swords. Maybe he could borrow some money from someone.

When he arrived back at the house, he decided to try to avoid Johnny and Yosaku, as he still had no idea how to break the news to them. Instead, he went into the gardens. Near the carp pond, he saw Sanji sitting, staring into the water. Even though the grass didn’t make any noise beneath his feet, Sanji still seemed to sense his presence and looked up. He rose from the stone bench and strolled over to Zoro.

“So Chopper finally untied you, hm?” he asked.

Zoro snorted. “I could have broken those strings at any time.”

“Of course you could,” Sanji said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. However, he then reached to Zoro’s clothes and pulled them aside so he could see the scar. He hummed as he traced the damaged skin with his finger.

Zoro suppressed a shiver when their skins made contact. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he definitely wanted to see where it was headed.

“That’s a nasty scar,” Sanji finally said and pulled back his finger. Zoro released his breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “But you know what they say. Ill weed grows apace.” His eyes flicked up to Zoro’s, a mischievous look in them, and definitely a challenge. 

“Is that so?” Zoro asked, his voice even deeper than usual.

Sanji took a shaky breath, but never lost eye contact. “It is.” He reached out again and this time, he touched the scar across Zoro’s eye. “What will be the next place marked, hm?” His voice was barely above a husky whisper, and Zoro realised they were very close together. “Here?” Sanji asked and touched Zoro’s bicep. “Or here?” He placed his hand on his hip.

Zoro smirked. “I already have scars there.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Sanji’s grin matched Zoro’s. “You should show me sometime.” Before Zoro knew it, Sanji kicked his legs out from underneath him. However, in a reflex to grab hold of something, he caught Sanji’s arm, pulling him along. The air was knocked out Zoro’s lungs when he hit the ground and again when Sanji landed on top of him.

For a moment, all they did was stare at each other. Then Zoro reached up and caressed Sanji’s hair. It felt really soft beneath his fingers, almost like silk.

Suddenly, Sanji’s head shot forward like an attacking snake, capturing Zoro’s lips with his own. For the third time, Zoro had a lack of air, but this one he didn’t mind at all. It definitely explained the tension that had been between them since the moment they met. Zoro hadn’t made the connection before, but now that he had, it made sense. He liked everything about Sanji, from his looks to his limberness to his foul mouth. A mouth that felt very good against his own.

Sanji coaxed his mouth open, and Zoro readily responded. His hands crept up Sanji’s hips and, when they weren’t batted away, his ass.

As suddenly as it had started, Sanji pulled back and rose to his feet, his lips red and swollen. “Idiot,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile on his face when he turned around and left.

Zoro was still lying in the grass, still slightly dizzy from the lack of oxygen or the kiss itself, he wasn’t sure, but a grin threatened to split his face in half. He hadn’t expected _that_ to happen, especially considering the way Sanji treated Perona, but he was glad that it had. Sanji was handsome, limber and, most importantly, he was Zoro’s equal in a fight. He challenged him to be the best he could be. Suddenly, Robin’s words made sense. Sanji should be the one to join him on his journey.

He should talk to Sanji about that, and they should probably discuss what happened just now. While Sanji had been the one initiating it and had seemed fine with it when he walked away, he _had_ walked away.

Zoro rose to his feet to go after him, but Chopper intercepted him to show him some herbs. He was babbling on happily about the healing qualities of the plant, and Zoro didn’t have the heart to interrupt him. Eventually, they were called for dinner. Zoro hoped to see Sanji there, but it was one of the other cooks by the name of Patty who brought them their food.

During dinner, Zoro kept evading Johnny and Yosaku’s question whether Mihawk had already said he could stay. Fortunately, they were easily distracted.

The sun had already set when Zoro managed to sneak away from them. He searched the entire house, but Sanji was nowhere to be found. Eventually, he checked the bathhouse. It was a separate building build especially for the staff. Mihawk, his family and guests had their own bathhouse.

Without bothering to knock or announce himself, Zoro entered the bathhouse. He was met by a cloud of steam, but through the vaporised water, he could see a flash of blond.

Sanji was sitting in a stool, washing himself with a cloth. When he felt the cold waft Zoro brought with him, he shivered and turned around. He rolled his eyes upon seeing Zoro. “Occupied.” He turned back to washing himself.

Zoro moved out of the damp room, taking off his clothes before re-entering. Sanji half turned around again, eyeing him as he walked naked up to him. “I was looking for you,” he said.

“And it couldn’t wait?” Sanji snapped. “This is the only time of day I get some peace and quiet. I enjoy that.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Sanji’s washcloth fell on the ground. Cursing softly in a language Zoro didn’t understand – but the tone indicated it was a curse – Sanji picked it up again. “I didn’t kiss you, you moron. I fell on top of you, because you pulled me along.” He continued to wash himself with brusque movements.

Zoro watched him, letting his glance wander his body. Of course, the rest of Sanji’s body was as pale as his face and hands, but it was nice to have that confirmed, seeing that those parts had always been covered with thick layers of clothes. He was lean, but with well-defined abs, and his legs, though partly covered by a towel in his lap, seemed to go on forever.

Zoro focused his attention back on the towel. It would be nice to see what was under there. It wasn’t because he wondered if Sanji, as a foreigner, looked the same down there – though that was a small part of it. Mostly, it was because he had felt Sanji’s body against his when they had kissed that afternoon, and it had felt good.

“Bullshit,” he grouched. “You want to tell me that you accidentally shoved your tongue in my mouth?”

There seemed to be a faint blush on Sanji’s cheeks, and Zoro was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the heat. “Maybe.”

Zoro snorted and rolled his eyes. “What’s your deal? I obviously liked it, or I would have sliced you in half.”

Now it was Sanji’s turn to snort in response to that last statement, but then he threw the washcloth in the bucket of water before him. “You want to know what my deal is? I don’t know about you, but where I come from, these kind of things are frowned upon. Worse, they are condemned.”

Zoro’s eyebrows rose. “What things?”

Sanji made a frustrated noise and rose from his seat. The towel dropped on the floor, giving Zoro an excellent view of his cock. Blond curls made their way up to his belly button. “Are you really that dense? We’re both guys!”

“I noticed,” Zoro said with a grin on his face.

Sanji looked down as if he only now realised he was naked. “Eyes up here, pervert!” He pointed with two fingers to his eyes. “Anyway,” he continued, “doesn’t that bother you?”

Zoro shrugged. “Not really. I mean, who cares? All I know is,” he hastily said when Sanji opened his mouth to answer his question, “there is something between us, and I would like to explore that.”

“Don’t you hate me?” Sanji asked, but he took a step closer and his voice sounded husky.

“No more than you hate me,” Zoro muttered, leaning in.

Sanji wrapped his arms around Zoro’s neck, kissing him for the second time that day. Zoro took the opportunity to feel up Sanji, letting his hands roam all the pale skin within reach. Sanji for his part did the same, until his hand landed on Zoro’s hardening cock.

Zoro let out a surprised gasp, much to Sanji’s delight. Wickedly, he grinned up at Zoro, squeezing gently. Zoro made a pleased sound, deep in his throat. Sanji’s hands were more slender than his own, calloused from working with knives.

Zoro kissed Sanji again, moving from his lips to his neck when Sanji tilted his head to the side to give him access. Sanji let out a moan and lined up his own erection with Zoro’s. Together, he started to stroke them. Zoro’s hips bucked into Sanji’s hand, causing extra and much welcome friction. He wrapped his hand around Sanji’s to help him stroke, all the while never stopping to kiss Sanji.

Sanji’s movements became more erratic, his brow furrowed and his eyes closed. With his free hand, he pulled on the short strands of Zoro’s hair.

Zoro felt his orgasm nearing and he had just enough sense to move his lips to Sanji’s shoulder before he bit down. Sanji wouldn’t take it kindly if he left a visible mark. He could feel Sanji’s body shudder under his hands, and something warm and wet landed on him.

Panting, Sanji held on to him for a moment, before he bent down and threw the bucket of water in Zoro’s face.

“What the hell!” Zoro sputtered, wiping the water out of his eye.

“I just wanted to see if the green would come out,” Sanji replied calmly, but he couldn’t suppress his grin.

Zoro realised that he had been covered in Sanji’s cum, so he had definitely needed a wash. Sanji picked up the washcloth that had fallen on the floor and started to clean himself up as well.

“Say,” Zoro started, causing Sanji to look up, “you never asked why I fought Mihawk.”

“Should I?” Sanji asked absentmindedly. “I just assumed it was because of some macho reason.”

“I want to become the best swordsman,” Zoro finally said after a moment of silence. He stared up at the ceiling, but he could feel Sanji turned his attention to him. “Mihawk is the best, so I have to defeat him. I made a promise to a friend, when she died.”

“And you dying is the best way to achieve that?” Sanji snapped. “You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Do you have a dream?” Zoro asked.

Sanji seemed to be taken aback for a moment. Then he stared at the floor. “Once. It doesn’t matter.”

“Now who’s the idiot?” Zoro snorted. When Sanji looked at him brusquely, he continued, “Giving up your dream is the stupidest thing you can do. What was it?”

Sanji seemed reluctant at first, but eventually, he sighed. “Have you ever heard of All Blue?” Suddenly, his eyes started to sparkle, proving to Zoro that he hadn’t given up his dream after all. When Zoro shook his head, Sanji said, “It’s a magical sea, where all kinds of fish live.” As he continued, he became more enthusiastic and his face lit up. “I want to find it,” he concluded his story, but then he sighed. “Well, I did. Back home, a crazy seaman decided he wanted to discover the world, and I thought that was my chance.”

“Where are you from, anyway?” Zoro asked.

“A country called France. The sailor was a Norman, so travelling was in his blood, since he descended from Vikings.” When he saw Zoro’s blank expression, he hastily continued, “Anyway, I was still young then. The old man took a job aboard as chef, and I came along.”

“He’s your dad?”

“Somewhat.” Sanji pursed his lips. “He took me in when my parents died. He didn’t want to take me with him at first and left me with a friend of his, but I snuck aboard anyway.” He sounded proud. “Once they were on sea, I came out, but they could hardly take me back, so I had to do chores and stuff. Only…” He sighed. “Only then a storm broke out. The ship sunk, along with most of the crew. The old man and I washed up on an inhabited island, with barely any food. He actually ate his own leg to stay alive, and to keep me alive.” A shiver went down his spine, and Zoro understood it was hard to talk about. “Finally, a boat picked us up and we were brought here. Unfortunately, we didn’t speak the language and because we look like foreigners, people distrusted us. I was young enough to pick up the language fairly quickly, but even if we spoke the same language, wore the same clothes and cooked the same food, we were still strangers. Finally, we found work with the master. We’ve been here ever since.”

It was silent for a while when Sanji had finished his story. Then Zoro asked, “Why did you give up on your dream?”

Sanji scoffed. “Didn’t you listen to the story? The old man saved my life. I can never repay that debt. So I must stay here and work for him. He’s not the youngest anymore.”

“He seemed sturdy enough to me,” Zoro remarked.

Sanji snorted. “What the hell do you know? Why did you come here, anyway?” he asked. “I take it it wasn’t for what we did just now.” He didn’t seem angry per se, but his movements had become brusquer.

“No, though that was a pleasant development,” Zoro said with a grin. He pulled Sanji close again and kissed his lips.

Sanji huffed as he pulled away and flicked Zoro’s head. “Idiot. Now, come on.” He beckoned him and led them to the natural hot spring that was just outside. As they slid down into the water, Zoro noticed Sanji’s leg brushing up against him, remaining contact for longer than necessary.

“So, what did you want to tell me?’ Sanji asked casually, his foul mood seemingly disappeared.

“More ask, really.” Zoro knew he had to pick his words carefully. They didn’t know each other that long, after all, and even if what happened inside the bathhouse implied that Sanji didn’t dislike him as much as he led on, it didn’t mean he would be interested in travelling together. Zoro cleared his throat. “I’m not allowed to stay here,” he finally said.

“That doesn’t come as much of a surprise,” Sanji said, as his foot crept dangerously close to Zoro’s groin. “Also, it’s not a question,” he added huskily.

“I want you to come with me when I leave,” Zoro blurted out.

Sanji sat up a little, obviously taken aback, and his foot disappeared, much to Zoro’s disappointment. “Excuse me?” he said.

“I am going to travel the world to become the best swordsman,” Zoro explained. “If you come with me, you might be able to fulfil your dream as well.” The whole thing was actually even more perfect than he had thought.

“You’re asking me to become a vagabond,” Sanji said, sounding slightly insulted. “Besides, the old man works for the master. I can’t leave.”

“He didn’t save your life for you to waste it away here,” Zoro remarked.

Sanji’s one visible eye widened. “If anyone should understand loyalty, I had figured it would be you, Marimo,” he snapped. “A meat headed warrior like you follows his master blindly, doesn’t he?!”

“I follow my master because I want to, not because I feel any obligation,” Zoro growled.

Sanji rolled his eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand!”

“How would I _not_ understand? I’ve faced death more often than you could count,” Zoro said sharply.

“You just don’t get it!” Sanji yelled. Before Zoro could say anything else, he had climbed out of the bath. While his bare naked ass would have normally have made for an attractive sight – and it still was – it was covered up with a towel before Zoro could blink his eye. Sanji walked brusquely back into the bathhouse without turning back.

Sighing, Zoro let himself sink further into the water. He messed that up really good.

* * *

In the following days, Sanji did an outstanding job avoiding Zoro. Every time Zoro entered the kitchen, Sanji had disappeared and no one seemed to know where he had gone, or at least they weren’t willing to tell him. Eventually, Zoro decided it was probably best to let him cool off for a while.

In the meantime, Zoro had told Johnny and Yosaku that he would leave in a few days, and they had begged him to revise his desire to defeat Mihawk. Zoro had tried to make clear that he couldn’t do that, but he refused when they offered to come with him. “You’ll be much happier here, where you have a job and income.” They hadn’t been willing to admit it, but from their faces Zoro could see that they were relieved.

Franky had let Zoro know that his swords were ready. On his way to the forge, Zoro wondered how he would pay Franky. He didn’t have any money or anything to trade.

On the bench next to the smithy, a woman with orange hair was sitting. When she saw Zoro, a catlike grin appeared on her face. “I heard you needed money,” she said, casually counting the coins in her pouch.

“How the hell did you hear that?” Zoro asked as he rose to his feet.

 “I have my ways,” she replied mysteriously. “Also, Robin told me. Do you need the money or not?”

Zoro hesitated. “I do need money,” he said slowly.

“I can lend it to you.” She smiled innocently at him, but his instincts told him this was probably a trap. However, he did need the money to pay Franky for the swords.

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay you back,” he said.

The woman rose. “Robin told me you’re going to travel the world, but you’ll be back to defeat the master. Bring me back all the maps you can find and your debt will be paid. If not…” She looked like she was doing math in her head. “…The interest is ten percent per month.”

“That’s theft!” Zoro exclaimed.

“Do you want to make it fifteen?” She looked at him challengingly. “Take it or leave it.” She held out her hand.

Grumbling, Zoro took her hand.

“Good. I’m Nami, by the way.”

“Zoro.”

From one of her pockets, she pulled a piece of paper. “Sign this.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh, just something to ensure you’ll keep your word.” She grinned once he had signed. “Splendid. Consider your swords paid for.” She gestured towards the door of the smithy.

Feeling like he had just sold his soul, Zoro walked inside, where Franky proudly showed him the swords. They were simple, undecorated and unpolished, which would have to be done by a specialist, but they were much sturdier than the ones Zoro was used to. Franky explained how the swords were made and somehow, it sounded like it should have taken much longer than it had, but Zoro wasn’t complaining. He thanked Franky, silently relieved that Robin didn’t seem to be present.

After he had said goodbye, Zoro went to the gardens to practice with his swords. Tonight it was full moon, so he had to leave. He hoped he would at least see Sanji before that. Even if he didn’t want to come – no matter how stupid his reason for that was – Zoro wanted to say goodbye. The sex they had had in the bathhouse had confirmed that there was more between them than Zoro had initially thought. He had never felt like this before, and it hurt that Sanji was willing to give that up so easily.

He considered kidnapping Sanji, but he would have to knock him out in order to do so, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to pull it off.

After his training, Zoro lay down in the grass, closing his eyes. Maybe a nap would clear his head.

He was woken by a sharp kick in the side. For a moment, he hoped it was Sanji, but it didn’t feel like his kick, one he had come to know very well in the past time. Upon opening his eyes, he saw Zeff towering over him, his peg leg at the ready. Hastily, Zoro sat up.

“Good, you’re awake,” Zeff grouched. “I almost didn’t see you. Could have lost your other eye.” He gestured to his peg leg. “Now tell me what the hell you’re doing just lying here.”

“What else should I be doing?” Zoro asked confusedly, which earned him another kick. Sanji didn’t have it from a stranger.

“Pulling that stick out of the eggplant’s ass, of course! It’s your fault it’s up there. He’s been cursing about green things for almost a week now, and I’m growing tired of it.” Zeff huffed. “Now tell me what happened, or I’ll shove a stick up _your_ ass.”

Zoro thought about it for a moment. He could hardly tell Zeff, the man who raised Sanji, that they had had sex in the bathhouse that was used by all servants. He decided it wasn’t important to the story. “I asked him to come with me when I leave,” he said.

Zeff hummed and plucked at his moustache. “And the idiot refused, eh? Figures.”

“It’s because of you,” Zoro blurted out.

Zeff stared at him long and hard, before he sighed. “I know. Come.” Without looking to see if Zoro was actually following him, he walked into the direction of the house.

Scrambling to his feet, Zoro ran after him. For an old man, Zeff was quite fast and he was already at the door when Zoro caught up with him. Zoro followed him to the kitchen, which was empty expect for Sanji. He was stirring in a large pan.

“Yo, old man, I think we’re out of–” he started when he heard the door open, but abruptly stopped talking when he saw Zoro following Zeff inside. Immediately, he made to leave. “I’m just going to grab–”

“Hold it,” Zeff grouched. “Stay right where you are. Grass-head here told me what happened.”

Sanji looked at Zoro with narrowed eyes, and Zoro shrugged.

“Not everything.”

“He didn’t need to.” Zeff crossed his arms before his chest. “I’ve known you for a long time, boy, and I’ve known about him since the first time you walked in front of him.” He jerked his thumb into Zoro’s direction.

Zoro froze, as did Sanji.

“It doesn’t matter,” Zeff continued. “Eggplant, this man offers to travel the world with you and you decline?”

“Why the hell would I want to go with him?” Sanji snapped before turning back to his pan.

Zeff sighed and rubbed his temples. “I just explained that.”

“Whatever you think you know, you don’t, old fart!” Sanji bit. “I like ladies.”

Zeff didn’t reply. Instead, he walked over to the pan in which Sanji was still stirring. He grabbed the spoon out of Sanji’s hand and tasted the broth. He pulled a disgusted face. “That’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever tasted. You were going to feed the master this?!”

Sanji’s eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re doing, old man, and it’s not going to work. There’s nothing wrong with the food.”

“Here, taste this and tell me if that isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever had.” Zeff all but shoved the spoon in Zoro’s mouth.

He swallowed and grinned. “Pretty bad.”

“What the hell does a piece of moss like you know?!” Sanji snapped. “The soup is fine. Now give me back the spoon!”

“Taste this,” Zeff said to Patty, who just entered the kitchen.

Patty did as he was told and gagged. “That’s disgusting!”

Sanji’s eyes widened. “Shut up! Your taste buds were destroyed years ago!”

“I can’t have you work here if you can’t even make a basic recipe.” Zeff crossed his arms before his chest. “Go and don’t come back until you’ve learned how to cook!”

Sanji was speechless for a moment, his mouth hanging open. Finally, he exclaimed, “Fine! My talents are wasted here anyway!” He made for the door, but paused. His hand clutched the thin frame. Suddenly, he turned around and fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground. Tears were dripping down his cheeks.

Silently, Zoro turned around and left the kitchen. Sanji needed some time to say goodbye.

* * *

A few hours later, Sanji was packed and ready to go. He and Zeff didn’t let on anything that had happened in the kitchen. They merely nodded at each other.

“Old man.”

“Eggplant.”

Johnny and Yosaku were sad to see Zoro go, but they promised they would bring Chopper home. Zeff offered to come too.

“I’d like to see my old friend.” He coughed embarrassedly.

Sanji made a face. “That’s gross.”

Zoro just grinned. He bowed to Perona and Mihawk, who had come outside to see them off as well. Chopper, Franky, Robin, Nami and Usopp had joined them too. Nami reminded Zoro about his debt and Usopp gave him one of his drawings. Robin just smiled disturbingly.

Mihawk had his arms crossed before his chest. “We didn’t agree on you taking one of my cooks, but Zeff insisted. I trust you bring him back with you the next time we meet.”

Zeff huffed. “He’d better.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Sanji snapped.

Zoro grinned again. “Let’s go then.”

Sanji rolled his eyes, but his fingers touched Zoro’s hand a little too long for it to be an accident. Together, they walked away, leaving their friends and Sanji’s home behind.

Zoro knew the journey wasn’t going to be an easy one, but fulfilling one’s dream never was. Still, he was determined that the next time he set foot in these lands he would be the best swordsman, and Sanji would have found All Blue.

**Author's Note:**

> HISTORICAL NOTE  
> The story is set in Japan during the Kamakura period (1185–1333), specifically after the second invasion by the Mongols in 1281 (the first was in 1274). Kublai Khan, the leader of the Mongols, tried to conquer Japan into submission. After his fleet was defeated by a typhoon in 1274, the government of Japan prepared for a second invasion, which only came in 1281. Before that, messengers from the Mongols were sent to demand the Japanese surrender, but they were all killed. During the second invasion, the Mongols had an ally in the Chinese. In August, another typhoon raged, destroying much of the Mongol fleet, known as kamikaze, or divine wind. The Mongol invasions are early examples of gunpowder warfare, as they launched explosive bombs from catapults, like happens in the story.  
> The Japanese swords were too thin to cut through the thick leather Mongol armour, though only in the fourteenth century, a blacksmith called Masamune developed a two-structured layer of soft and hard steel which led to the development of the katana, like Franky does in the story.  
> Samurai were warriors of noble descent. During the second Mongol invasion, 40,000 of them fought against the invaders, whom were with 140,000 men and 5000 ships. A ronin is a samurai without a master, whether through death or because he lost his master’s privilege. While later a samurai was supposed to kill himself when his master died, in the Kamakura period it was acceptable for a samurai to find a new master.


End file.
